forever ever
by a sea of sound
Summary: He felt her lips against his and her tears drying on his face and he allowed himself to believe that he, too, was her whole universe. — HughRosa. [Revised 4/29]


It seemed that tranquility took flight and escaped once again, bringing an end to the calm before the storm.

Of course, like all things, Rosa hadn't expected there to even be a storm; no, she'd thought she and Hugh would be safe from whatever tidal wave life threw at them following Team Plasma's second ruination. But luck decided to scorn her by awakening Hugh's dormant rage, and she lacked the excuse of a journey to protect herself from it. Even so, how could she anyway, when his indignation was unprecedentedly directed toward her? He stood rigid with his back turned, looking out the same window the both of them used to look out of, dreaming about being on the other side with Pokémon as their only companions.

Unlike the fury Hugh set aside for Team Plasma, he hid his anger and resentment behind a stony wall of a face, opting not to be so forward with his emotions. Perhaps Rosa would get the message, and he could finally unchain his thoughts from his mind. Not once had it occurred to him that he was behaving irrationally, or that he was bringing an end to his and Rosa's Halcyon days, if they had ever even existed.

The sun had not been so kind to them; in lieu of providing them with shining euphoria, it brought hell upon them, burning white-hot like Reshiram's fire even in the coldest of days. The mockery of science and the solar system had aided Hugh in nursing the first pangs of antipathy he'd ever experienced for his best friend, something he commonly associated with that boyfriend of hers, Curtis.

* * *

"Hey, Hugh. It's been a while. How have you been?"

"Good."

"I'm glad to hear that..."

A concealed clench of the fist and twiddling of thumbs.

"What have you been up to?"

"Well, you know, PokéStar movies and everything...Curtis and I are dating."

Where is he now?

"I know."

You've been together for two years.

"Oh, then you must've seen—"

"I did."

A pause.

"Remember when you would stay late here and we'd make up stories about the passersby?"

A low hum (growl?).

"We've changed a lot since then, haven't we, Hugh?"

...

* * *

Hugh remained long after Rosa's birthday party was over to accompany his mother on the walk home. She was intoxicated, and Hugh couldn't recall a time since his father left that she wasn't. It was the reason why his sister was never home anymore, choosing instead to wander Unova with her Liepard. She was an adult now and Hugh wasn't afraid anymore. They didn't need a father.

"It's okay, calm down. Let it out, sweetheart."

"It's been _three_ _fucking years_ since he left and I haven't been better!"

"All right, okay..."

Though he was tempted, Hugh didn't inform Rosa's mother that her efforts were futile; she seemed to be aware of the fact anyway. His mother was inconsolable despite her announcements that she was _happy. _The receiving of happiness was fiscal, and would not be granted without some kind of fee, a fee that which the woman had not paid. It was no wonder she wasn't happy.

"I miss you too...When will you be back?"

On his way to the washroom, Hugh halted, feeling his blood heat up at the sound of Rosa speaking in such a tone. The door to her bedroom was ajar, almost as if it were trying to seduce him into carrying out with his high-strung emotions. He walked, light-footed and stealthy, toward her room, his back pressed against the wall.

"Oh, I can't do that, Curtis. I've barely been home! I need a break from traveling anyway, though Sinnoh seems nice."

For a split second Hugh internally beat himself up for constantly letting his emotions choke him until he could control himself no longer. He punched the wall beside his head in a vain attempt at returning to his senses, creating a fist-sized hole.

"What the—! I gotta go, Curtis. I'll talk to you later, okay? Love you."

Rosa threw her door open, a look of incredulity on her face. It was the first time she had ever actually looked at him in three years, and she almost felt like a blind man opening his eyes and seeing hell.

* * *

His expression haggard, eyes bagged darkly, teeth and jaw clenched stoically.

He wasn't Hugh. He wasn't her best friend. He wasn't the boy she knew like the back of her hand (But she didn't, did she. Not anymore.).

The only thing she was sure of was that he was the very embodiment, the very personification of the rage and wrath he occasionally but not uncommonly exhibited.

Rosa's mouth fell open in surprise, and in that ephemeral moment she felt an overwhelming sense of melancholia. There was, in fact, a stranger in her home, a stranger that had once been a best friend, a stranger that had once been a rival, a stranger that had once been a neighbor. She wasn't sure what he was anymore, or who he was. Regret and remorse coursed through her as if it were her own blood, running through her body and spreading to every single nook and cranny of her being. Regret for never taking any of his calls while she was preoccupied with her show business career, or even when she was with Curtis, and remorse for never calling back.

The silence that hovered over them like a protective parent made Rosa realize that they were alone here, and that her mother must've taken Hugh's mother home after her drunken bout. Her attention turned back to the shell of a person before her, his hand red and bloodied from paint and plaster. Rosa reached forward, taking his rough hand in hers to examine the damage. The wall could be repaired some other time; unlike people, they didn't require the extra mile or five to fix.

No colorful, articulate words waltzed out of his mouth as she guided him to the kitchen where her mother's first-aid paraphernalia was. He followed like one of those old Lillipup dolls his sister had had when they were children, letting himself be dragged this way and that.

* * *

He sat silently watching as she worked on his hand, bandaging his bleeding knuckles. When she finished she sat back, avoiding the eyes that she knew were keeping vigil on her.

"Why did you do that?"

At the sound of his voice, she looked up with her eyebrows furrowed. His voice was older, quieter, more whimsical if anything. The one thing about it that stood out to her was that his voice no longer cracked in high and low staccatos, but she also sadly noted that it no longer held such passion or emotion.

"Why wouldn't I have?" In comparison her voice sounded childish and inexperienced, meek and fearful. She had never actually acknowledged the one-year age difference between the two of them until then. A year seemed so long and far away.

"Hugh..." she murmured. "Are you—are you _sure_ you're all right?"

In spite of answering her Hugh rose from his chair and walked mechanically yet briskly toward the door. The instant in which Rosa robotically traced him seemed sempiternal, until she finally got through to her brain to chase after him before he hurt himself.

It appeared to be that the time paradox had shifted, going against her in Hugh's favor. She ran through invisible molasses and Hugh never left her sight, nor did he allow her to capture him. He was walking at a seemingly slow pace as she hurried after him, so close yet still so far.

Rosa finally caught up to him at Aspertia's lookout point, where he situated himself atop the railing. A scream built up in her throat as she registered what he was about to do, or what she thought he was about to do.

Hugh turned and looked at her, holding out his injured hand. She stared at him with palpable pain in her eyes, deciding to humor him. (Yet this situation was anything but humorous.) Using a nearby bench for leverage, she stood beside him. Despite the fact that his hand was wounded, she clutched it for dear life and he never made any sound of discomfort. Rather, he squeezed hers right back.

Looking down from this point rather than up brought her a whole new perspective, one that varied completely from the one she'd had when she and Hugh met Bianca here to get her first Pokémon. Instead of feeling invincible and formidable, she felt inexplicably human and fragile standing there with her broken friend. There was that saying that the sky was the limit, but it seemed she and Hugh had reached the limit. What is left after one reaches the top, the very border of the earth?

The feeling was bittersweet, that she would experience being at the very acme (nadir?) with her best friend, although she really wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

"Happy birthday, Rosa."

His tone was ironic as was the bitter smile on his face. She glanced up at him, her eyes filled with unshed feelings and bottled up emotions. Hugh was regarding her with an expression that reminded her of how Curtis looked at her, yet Hugh's was so much more different and unparalleled than Curtis'.

Hugh felt his heartstrings tug at him painfully at the realization in Rosa's eyes. He hadn't the slightest idea of what she was thinking at the moment, but all he knew was that it was all wrong when people said that the person they love is their "whole world". There is only one world, and it is filled with excess and emptiness, no in between. Rosa was so much more than his whole world. She was his galaxy, his universe, and it pained him to know and believe that he was only her world, if anything. The rest of her was reserved for the man she truly loved, like he loved her.

He felt her lips against his and her tears drying on his face and he allowed himself to believe that he, too, was her whole universe.

* * *

Rosa barely registered the feel of his skin against hers, forgetting momentarily that she and Curtis had still never gone this far in their two-year relationship.

Perhaps it was only fitting that she and Hugh were going the extra hundred yards in their nineteen-year relationship.

It was a foreign feeling, but it felt strangely familiar and comfortable. He was there, with her, for her, around her, inside her. And she had cried not because she didn't want him to, but because she did and she shouldn't have, but she did.

His eyes held emotion: misery, despair, love, and she saw her own reflected in his. They were one and the same, interchangeable yet varied.

When they finished, he leaned his forehead on hers, both of his hands fisted in her tainted sheets. He didn't smile, nor did she; in turn, he rolled off of her and lied next to her, and her arms wound themselves around his waist. Rosa decided that she would let the morning put everything in its place, but for now she would love him like he loved her.

* * *

_I wish I was special.  
You're so fucking special._

* * *

**This fic is based on the song Forever Ever by BASTILLE. It's a great song and I strongly suggest listening to it.**

**That lyric is from the song Creep by Radiohead, if you didn't know.**

**Gosh, angst much? I was just casually listening to my music at school, and then I just started writing this on my phone because it reminded me of them. Thinking about this pained me because I hate/love angst and just SequelShipping omg. I don't know if I love Sequel as much as I loved FerrisWheel after finishing BW, but if anything it comes in a close second.**

**I'm not really sure how this turned out because I wrote it in such a short amount of time and kind of rushed through it.**


End file.
